Entanglements
by Ember Nickel
Summary: A lot can happen in twelve days. [Slight AU in The Shadow Rising.]


Slightly AU, either in that Aviendha didn't see anything too specific about Rand in the rings, or that she believes in free will and just shrugged it off.

* * *

It takes them twelve days to journey from Imre Stand to Cold Rocks Hold, twelve days of trying to keep up with the Aiel on foot. Sometimes the Wise Ones all but tell Egwene that she should take a turn on Mist. "Do not be overly proud," Amys says. "You may be full-grown among your own people, but here you must learn to carry a spear before you can run with it."

Egwene shows no expression as she climbs onto the mare's back. She only feels a twinge of guilt, now, at lying to the Wise Ones, but she still regrets keeping her secret from Aviendha.

The apprentice even appears to have gotten wise to Egwene's omissions. "How old are you?" she asks one day, walking alongside Egwene.

A true Aes Sedai would have sworn the oaths, Egwene reminds herself, and thinks quickly. "I was seventeen when I first came to the Tower. As you see, I have not the look of Moiraine Sedai yet."

Aviendha seems to accept this. "The Wise Ones think you are very strong. They want to teach you. Otherwise they would not treat you-this way."

Egwene watches Aviendha reach up to where she sits perched on Mist, then recoil. She laughs, clambering off the horse. "It's all right, you can touch my hair."

"It's so dark," Aviendha says wonderingly, taking one of Egwene's braids in hand. "I knew wetlanders were strange, but I didn't know they had hair like this."

Egwene giggles. "Not all of us do."

"But you all wear it long, in the tower?"

The Tower again. "Mostly." Egwene quickly tries to deflect the subject. "In the Two Rivers, where I come from, little girls never wear braids until they're old enough to be women. I suppose it's very different from here."

"You are all from the Two Rivers," says Aviendha, more in confirmation than curiosity. "You and Rand al'Thor and Matrim Cauthon."

Egwene nods.

"You care for Rand very much."

"He's my friend," says Egwene. "And the-Dragon Reborn, the _Car'a'carn_."

"Those are not the same," Aviendha snaps. "Our prophecies are not those of a wetlander king."

"I'm sorry. I only meant-when we were younger, it seemed that we might be husband and wife. But that was when I had never met an Aes Sedai or considered living outside the Two Rivers. We've changed." She pauses, looking Aviendha over. It's impossible to tell what might strike a nerve, with Aiel. "I suppose it was a bit like how you assumed you would always be _Far Dareis Mai_. Life interfered."

Aviendha gives a brief smile. "Your accent is atrocious, wetlander."

* * *

Aviendha had seen all sorts of futures in the rings, many that could never be. In some she was taken _gai'shain_. In others, she ran with the Shaido but still was Taardad in her blood. In some she did not return from her second trip to Rhuidean. In others, she lay with a wetlander man with a stark chin and hair dark like Egwene's. In some, she became first-sister to Elayne Trakand. In others, she wove a bridal wreath for Rand al'Thor, and Elayne watched her with scorn from her wetlander throne.

The Wise Ones had told her that one had no _toh_ for things she had not done, most of which she never would do. "When the time comes for you to do what you must, you will remember," said Amys. "The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills."

In none of those futures, so far as she can recall, had her future been bound up with Jasin Natael's. But that doesn't stop her from being cautious at his approach one evening. The man is out of his mind. Well, all wetlanders are out of their minds, he's just off in a different direction than the others.

"You follow a man with dragons on his arms," he says admiringly. "What an honor it must be to witness the time of prophecy!"

Aviendha glares at him. "So do you."

"True," says Natael. "But that is no harbinger to _me_; just tokens of beauty."

"If you find Rand al'Thor's arms attractive, go and bother him about it," says Aviendha. "Am I his mother, to tease him when admirers flock to his shadow?"

Rand al'Thor is the son of a Maiden, Aviendha remembers. He should be as a brother returning to her hold. But she is no longer a Maiden nor yet a Wise One.

Fortunately, she has an escape from Jasin Natael's pestering. Egwene al'Vere has returned from her latest conversation with Melaine, and now her hair is down again. "I knew it!" Aviendha beams, running to hug her friend. "I knew you'd be fine."

"You know many things," says Egwene. She wears a scarf around her neck, a favor from the peddler. She will never pass for Aiel, of course, but it fits her with the grace of a _shoufa_. And she can walk longer and longer each day; this last day she only needed the horse for a short time while the sun was high in the sky and Aviendha's practice with balls of fire was making it hotter still.

"Now even our spears cannot think you a child," says Aviendha, and steps forward to kiss her.

But Egwene pulls away. "Oh, Aviendha, I-I cannot. Not yet."

"I understand," Aviendha says stiffly. "You have your duties to meet."

"No," says Egwene, "it isn't that."

"You are not-you are still more fond of men, than of women?"

"No," Egwene says. "I _do_ want you. This way. But not now, not until I can give all myself to you."

Aviendha blinks. "You know I saw visions in Rhuidean. What might be, what must never be. It did not say I was assured to be yours, but it did not say it was forbidden."

Egwene gives a smile. "We have a test like that too, when we're raised to be Accepted. Only possibilities, nothing true."

"You didn't see me?" Aviendha teases.

"I didn't...know you yet," Egwene says, but she seems distracted by that thought.

"Forgive me," Aviendha says. "I should not have presumed, any of it."

"No, listen. You know my words for truth-then know I do want you, body and spirit. When I am sure I can have no secrets from you, then nothing will come between us."

Women! They could be as confusing as men sometimes, and that was saying something. "Or we could all dance the spears tomorrow. Do not make promises you can't keep."

Egwene acknowledges that with a brief nod. "Then I'll fight by your side, if I have to. But the Light willing, some day I'll dance with you for real."

Wetlander dances are probably soft and foolish things, Aviendha thinks, accompanied by too-loud singing. But then again, nothing is ever simple with the _Car'a'carn_ and his companions. "Just as long as you don't ask that tiresome gleeman to play for us."

Egwene smiles, and that much, Aviendha can take for truth.


End file.
